Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Jane Austen Lives Again: Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The housekeeper
opened the door. Mrs Naseby beckoned her in to a dismal corridor, lit by a
single gas lamp that sputtered and hissed, providing a totally inadequate
light.

‘Take a seat,
Miss Austen, I’ll take you to her ladyship in a moment. They’ve just finished
luncheon and she’s expecting you in precisely ten minutes. I’m glad to see
you’re punctual, I can’t abide tardiness in any form, though I’m somewhat
surprised to see you at the servant’s door.’

Mrs Naseby looked
just as Jane’s imagination had pictured her. She was a spare, thin woman
dressed in a long black gown of Edwardian tailoring, a harridan from a former
age with a set of keys dangling from a belt round her waist. Small, piercing
eyes looked shrewdly down a long nose, examining every aspect of Miss Austen’s
appearance. Her complexion was pale, as a result of spending a lifetime inside
this prison-like fortress, Jane thought, and couldn’t help thinking about one
of the housekeepers of her own creation, Mrs Reynolds, with her warm
personality and devotion to her master Mr Darcy. What a contrast, but then she
decided

Mrs Naseby might have far more in common with another character of her
making, the domineering and opinionated Mrs Norris of Mansfield Park. Scolding
herself for jumping to first impressions too soon, she sat down on a bentwood chair
and heard the housekeeper mutter something to do with seeing to the maids about
clearing the dining room before striding away down the dimly lit corridor. Jane
noted the row of bells on the opposite wall, labelled for the upstairs rooms
all jangling at once, and a succession of pantries, sculleries and kitchen
rooms where a flurry of maids beetled from one to the other or up and down the
steps at the end with trays of half-eaten food, empty wine bottles, and towers
of porcelain plates.

Was it too late
to run away, Jane wondered? This was a world that felt so strange. She’d always
helped out at home with daily chores, but she’d been used to being looked after
by their own maids, and they’d always had someone to help with the cooking. Besides,
Cassandra had always made sure she had time for her writing, and as much as she
hoped there’d be time to devote to writing still, the fact was that she would
now be part of this new world, almost a servant, unable to have the freedoms
she’d always enjoyed.

But before her
mind had a chance to even think how she might slip back up the stairs to run
away down the drive, the housekeeper returned, and with a single nod of her
head, and a long finger wagging in her direction, beckoned her to follow.

‘I will take you
to see her ladyship, and presuming the interview is successful we will proceed
to your new quarters. You will be required to serve the family every day from
nine o’clock in the morning until five o’clock in the afternoon, unless you are
needed in the evening, which is a distinct possibility. I have been advised to
tell you that you may dine with the family at every mealtime, which to my way
of thinking is a great honour. I hope you’ve brought something suitable to wear
in the evenings.’

‘I have one dress
I could wear for such an occasion, Mrs Naseby, but really, it would be no
hardship for me to have something in the kitchen with the other servants, or
even in my room. I am happy with my own company, and I do not wish to be a
bother to the family or anyone else, for that matter.’

‘If Lady Milton
wishes it, you will dine with the
family.’

Jane realised
that the old housekeeper meant her to know she no longer had any choice about
anything she might want to do, and all she could hope was that her new employer
would be more flexible than she was being painted. Her idea of spending the
evenings writing in solitude seemed to be a dream that was fading fast.

‘You will have
one day off every third Thursday of the month, unless her ladyship requires you
for duty,’ Mrs Naseby continued. ‘I am sure I do not need to tell you there is
to be no fraternising with any male servants, and as an employee discretion and
loyalty to the family is paramount at all times.’

At the top of the
servant’s staircase they entered a short corridor and Mrs Naseby opened the
green baize door at the end, which separated the rest of the house from the
domestic quarters. They crossed the large hall where a grandfather clock ticked
the hours away, and an empty fireplace looked cheerless with two sagging
armchairs on either side. Faded damask on the walls from a previous age was
fraying and worn away to reveal pink plaster in places, and in the middle of
the room a circular table held a bowl of scented pot-pourri, the faint
fragrance of lavender and roses making up for the lack of any fresh flowers.
Jane could see the lobby where the coats were hung next to a brass stand filled
with umbrellas and walking sticks, and the front door beyond which was open to
the elements. The rain was falling harder than ever, pinging loudly into
strategically placed zinc buckets, as puddles of water were forming on the
flagstones. Following Mrs Naseby up the wide staircase Jane tried not to be
judgemental, remembering what Dr Lyford had said about the difficulties that
families of great houses were facing after the war. Still, she couldn’t help
feeling that the general atmosphere of the place exuded more than the neglect
from a lack of money.

Cobwebs as thick as a man’s arm trembled between the
balustrades on the staircase and piles of dust rolled in fluffy balls along the
stone steps, and where windows easily reached could have been cleaned with a
pail of soapy water, they were misted with green mould like watered silk and
traced over with spider’s webs.

At last they
entered the drawing room with its peacock blue walls glowing in the dim space.
A slice of light from curtains barely parted glimmered on silver frames, on
photographs and portraits, highlighting white muslin and a gash of tan leather
glove, the staring eye of a bloodhound and the flash of a sword at a soldier’s
side. There was a smell of dank flower water and dusty cinders in the grate,
offset by sweet peas wilting in a crystal vase and faded peonies dropping their
petals from a Chinese jug to stain the linen cloth below.

Jane didn’t see
Lady Milton immediately. Lying full-length upon the sofa in a scarlet kimono
embroidered with a design of blossom trees and cranes in coloured silks, she
was camouflaged by the red of the satin couch that enfolded her like a hothouse
tomato. It was her mouth Jane noticed first, like an impish red bow curving
into a smile which made dimples in the soft pale face that brought to mind the
pictures of Hollywood film stars she’d seen outside the cinema just a few weeks
ago in Winchester.

‘Miss Austen, how
much we have been looking forward to meeting you,’ Lady Milton drawled with a
little shake of her head, her perfectly bobbed hair gleaming as black as the
lacquered table beside her. She paused to tap her cigarette on a long holder
into an ashtray.

‘Thank you, Lady
Milton, I’m very pleased to be here,’ Jane answered as politely as she could.

The housekeeper
rushed over to the windows, pulling at the heavy curtains until light flooded
the room.

‘That’s better,
we can’t have you sitting in the dark, your ladyship.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Naseby,
you may leave us now. I trust you’ve informed Miss Austen of all she needs to
know.’

‘All but the
particulars of the children, ma’am. I thought it best for you to do that.’

Lady Milton visibly
sighed. Now that the room was lighter Jane saw her employer was not as young as
she’d first thought. Though her hair and make-up suggested a young woman in her
late twenties, it was obvious from the lines etched on the plump features that
Lady Milton was probably nearer forty if not older.

‘Take a seat,
Miss Austen,’ she said.

Sitting down on a
wing chair Jane watched Mrs Naseby walk from the room without a backward
glance, closing the door firmly behind her. Lady Milton dragged on her
cigarette holder and blew rings of smoke into the air. Her ankles were crossed,
and as the scarlet Louis heeled slippers with pom-poms of swansdown tapped
against the other in agitation, the kimono fell away from her knees to reveal
pale shapely legs. Jane thought she must have been very beautiful once, and
stared with fascination at her heavily made up face, powdered and rouged, with
kohl-black eyes lined with paint. She wondered if Lady Milton had forgotten she
was there for a moment until her ladyship swung her legs round in one perfect
move to sit up and face her.

‘Now, Miss
Austen, where shall we begin?’

‘I am very much
looking forward to meeting the children,’ said Jane thinking it was a prompt
for her to speak. ‘I was educated both at school, and at home by my excellent
father, and can offer a thorough grounding in most subjects suitable for young
girls, your ladyship.’

‘I’m sure you
can, Miss Austen. Dr Lyford wrote very highly of your accomplishments. But I
have a confession to make, and I must do it now as Mrs Naseby has chosen not to
do it for me.’

Jane waited as
Lady Milton puffed once more on the holder and watched her raise a glass
tinkling with ice to her lips.

‘Would you care
to join me in a White Lady, Miss Austen?’ she said agitating the glass and
swirling the creamy liquid. ‘I find it’s such a pick-me-up in the afternoon,
and revives wonderful memories of dancing at Ciro’s.’

‘No, thank you,
Lady Milton. I think I’d better keep my wits about me for dealing with small
children. I hope I shall be able to spend some time getting to know them this
afternoon.’

‘Yes, indeed, if
we can find them.’

‘Goodness, are
the children lost, Lady Milton?’

‘Not exactly. The
fact is, Miss Austen, I have you here on quite false pretences. My children do
not really need a governess.’

‘Oh, I see,’ said
Jane who didn’t understand one bit. All she could think about was how she would
have to break the news to Dr Lyford and the inconvenience she’d put him to when
she threw herself once more on his mercy.

‘My children are
not the young creatures you imagine them to be. The truth is they are quite
grown-up, and indeed, some are past the age where one might consider them even
to be marriageable, let alone in need of a governess. Lord Milton’s first wife
was the mother of the eldest three - William who is the heir to Manberley,
Alice now nearing the age of twenty-seven and quite left on the shelf, and Mae
who is twenty-five and absolutely unmanageable. I should not say it, but they
were given far too much freedom in their youth, and think themselves beyond
reproach. Of my own children, sadly I lost my eldest and dearest Teddy to the
perils of the Great War.’

Lady Milton
paused to dab at her eyes with a silk handkerchief.

‘I’m very sorry
to hear of your loss,’ said Jane, filling in an awkward pause in the
conversation. ‘I think there is scarcely a family in the land who has not
suffered in some way.’

‘I thought my own
children would be a comfort to me,’ Lady Milton continued, ‘but Beth is turning
out to be quite as headstrong as her father, Emily declares she will never
marry, and Cora never has her head out of a book. Their father quite spoils and
indulges them all, you see, Miss Austen, and I am at my wit’s end. My nerves
simply cannot cope, and that is why I am asking for your help.’

‘I’m not sure
what I can do, Lady Milton.’

‘I need someone
to manage them, to help steer my children back on the right track. A girl like
you, the daughter of a clergyman from a respectable background, is just the
sort of person I think will do the job admirably. Please say you’ll help me,
Miss Austen.’

Lady Milton
looked very young at that moment, and though Jane was sure she was probably
inclined to silliness there was something about her desperation that struck a
chord. Hadn’t she always been an adviser to family and relations? Hadn’t they
all confided in her, and she rather prided herself at helping many of her
younger nieces, particularly in regards to young men. And surely, given the age
of the children, she wouldn’t be expected to be a nursemaid to them, which
might free up some more time for her writing? It was something to be needed,
and without doubt, Lady Milton, and it seemed Manberley Castle itself, was in
need of much assistance.

‘Yes, I will,’
she found herself saying, and was pleased to see Lady Milton smile for the
second time. It was easy to see how she must have captured Lord Milton’s heart,
Jane thought, as she glimpsed a much younger girl in the sparkling eyes that
watched her own.

Lady Milton rose
from her couch, instantly animated with jangling bracelets and sheer relief.
Crossing the turkey carpet in two strides she flung her arms round Jane who was
taken aback at such a demonstration of affection, and rose awkwardly to receive
it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been hugged in such a way and
whilst she felt slightly overwhelmed, not least by the fug of scent that
enveloped her, she had to admit it wasn’t unpleasant.

Lady Milton let
her go at last. ‘I cannot thank you enough for your generosity, and I do hope
you’ll forgive my little deception. I could hardly advertise their ages, could
I? People would have thought me completely mad! Now, I shall call Naseby to
show you to your room. Heaven knows where the young people are now but they
generally make an appearance at dinner. You will be dining with us, I hope.’

‘I will be
present at dinner if you wish me to be there, Lady Milton, but I would like to
ask if I might occasionally have an evening to myself.’

‘Shall we see how
we go along, my dear? I’m afraid your presence will be required when there are
social events, and though we’ve not entertained lately, I have plans to alter
that. The girls need to have husbands found and in that process I will want you
to act as chaperone to them, you must understand. You needn’t worry about
William, of course. In any case, he is a law unto himself. However, I should
like to accommodate you and your wishes … I’m sure we might find you an evening
occasionally.’

Jane did not feel
comforted by the idea of having little time to herself, and after her initial elation
at feeling flattered she was needed so much, was now feeling rather nervous.
How did she think she was going to be able to tell young women her own age or
even older than herself what to do? She’d temporarily forgotten that she wasn’t
forty-one any more, and had all the appearance of a much younger person. The
idea of taking on what might prove to be an impossible task weighed heavily,
and she doubted she was up to the job. But there was nothing to be done. She
must face facts and realise she had no choice. Without money or a home of her
own, she had to earn a living somehow, and for the time being she had no option
but to accept the job and do the best she could.

Mrs Naseby was
summoned and led Jane up the back stairs to her room. There were several poky
staircases giving glimpses of a gallery and bedrooms leading off endless
passages, and landings to be crossed on the way, until they found themselves in
the oldest part of the building where the corridors were built of stone.

‘You’ll be in the
tower room,’ said Mrs Naseby, ‘where the old nursery used to be. Of course,
you’ll know by now there aren’t any children up there any more.’

‘No, I hear
they’re all quite grown-up.’

‘Well, that’s a
matter for you to judge yourself, Miss Austen. I find them to be quite juvenile
in many respects, though Beth has a little more about her, and Alice is the
kindest girl that ever walked the earth. But then, she takes after her sweet
mother who was just the same. What a sad day that was for the Miltons when she
passed away.’

‘And Mae is
Alice’s sister, is that right?’

‘Yes, poor Lady
Milton died shortly after her birth. It’s not her fault she’s turned out to be
so wild, Miss Austen, she’s never known the love of a mother, though William
and Alice have been the best kind of brother and sister any girl could ask for.
After her ladyship’s death the children were sent away to stay with their aunt,
Lady Celia Broughton. Their father couldn’t stand to see any of them, not even
William his heir. He said he was reminded too much of their dear mother, but it
broke Alice’s heart, and Mae never knew what it was to have a mother or father.
His lordship married again within the year, and the new Lady Milton had her own
children very swiftly after that. After Teddy was killed, Lord Milton came to
his senses and the children were invited back to their rightful home. But, it’s
not been easy, I can tell you. Well, I daresay I’ve already spoken out of turn.
Here we are … the last set of steps are the steepest and the narrowest, but I
think you’ll enjoy the views when you get to the top.’

Jane was
surprised the old housekeeper had confided in her so much, but perhaps she was
now one of them, she’d decided to unbend a little. She followed her up the dark
and twisting staircase until they reached the top where a gothic door stood
open to reveal the stone tower. Jane’s imagination had conjured up a gloomy
room rather like a cold prison so she was pleasantly surprised to find a
comparatively light and airy space despite the awful dark weather which had set
in for the day. It was a large room, simply decorated in white distemper, with
a fireplace on one side displaying an empty mantle above and a basket of logs
below shrouded in a grey film of cobwebs. There was a single bed, a chest of
drawers that held an ornate Victorian dressing mirror along with a plain jug
and basin for washing, and a small oak wardrobe in the corner. A bookshelf on
the opposite side held a few dusty books, obviously left over from the previous
governess and a glimpse of the nursery adjoining showed a sad looking room with
a few discarded and forgotten toys. There was an abandoned dolls’ house with a
few sticks of broken furniture looking quite as uncared for as Manberley
itself, and a rocking horse with just a few wisps left to its tail.

But despite the
general lack of luxury there were two features of the turreted room, which made
Jane’s heart beat with gladness. The splendid gothic window was made up of five
long glass panels set in sinuous tracery like piping on an iced white cake,
giving different views from each one towards the sea on one side and the valley
on the other. Set before it was a mahogany desk with a leather chair, a most
magnificent sight to behold.

‘Sally will bring
you hot water in the morning. There is a bathroom with hot and cold running
water on this floor, but his lordship only has water heated once a week on a
Sunday, and you may find by the time the water gets up here it’s not so hot.
Breakfast is at half-past eight, except on Sundays when it’s served at nine,
and lunch is at one in the afternoon. The dressing bell rings at five, and
dinner is served at seven. Do you have any questions?’

‘I can’t think of
any at present,’ said Jane feeling overwhelmed, ‘I expect I’ll get used to
everything in time.’

‘Well, you’ll be
the first at Manberley to do that!’ said Mrs Naseby, ‘Don’t be late for dinner,
Lord Milton gets in an awful rage if people don’t know how to be punctual.’

Mrs Naseby turned
on her heel and left. Jane picked up her case and deposited it on the bed. She
took out the bottle of perfume and the tin of talcum powder and placed them on
the chest of drawers, hung up her clothes in the wardrobe, and set her book on
the little table next to her bed in an attempt to make the room look more
cheerful. There was a small electric lamp with a mica shade on the desk,
another miracle of the modern age, which would be invaluable in the evenings if
she managed to escape and do some writing. Fetching out her pen, ink and
notebook, she arranged them with pride before she sat on the chair to take in
her new domain. It wasn’t much, she thought, and it

didn’t feel exactly homely,
but she was sure she could make a few improvements in time. It was to be a paid
post, after all, and perhaps she could cheer the place up with a few more
books, or buy some fabric to make a colourful coverlet for the bed. She’d made
a beautiful patchwork quilt once with her mother and sister, sitting at leisure
in the evenings perfecting her fine stitches, and matching the diamond
patterns, but she pushed that thought out of her mind very quickly. It was too
painful to think about memories of home, she decided. She must concentrate on
facing new challenges and doing what she could to embrace her new life as
positively as possible.

The desk more
than made up for the lack of homely touches, and she felt very inspired sitting
there and thinking of all that she might write of next. She was just admiring
the view and thinking how beautiful it might look if the sun was shining when
there came a knock at the door.

‘Come in,’ she
said, wondering whom it might be, and stood up immediately, feeling a little
guilty for enjoying such pleasant selfish thoughts of her writing.

The door opened
and a young woman looked in rather timidly. ‘Miss Austen? Welcome to Manberley.
I’m Alice, by the way.’

Alice stood on the
threshold with a nervous expression. Jane saw a kind smile forming on the
girl’s lips, and liked what she saw. Dressed rather plainly in an old-fashioned
gown Alice’s long hair was piled high on her head, which lent itself more to a
late Edwardian style than the present fashion. Jane recognised someone for whom
time had stopped after the Great War. She’d seen other young women like her,
scarred forever from the losses of an entire generation of men, and wondered if
Alice had lost a sweetheart like so many others, in what she’d heard was the
most terrible of all wars.

‘Alice, how
lovely to meet you. Do come in, it’s so kind of you to come all the way up here
to meet me.’

Gesturing to her
chair Jane watched Alice take the seat whilst she perched on the end of the
bed.

‘I just wanted to
make sure you had everything you need,’ said Alice looking round the room.
‘Goodness, it’s a few years since I’ve been up here, and nor has anyone else by
the looks of things. It’s rather lacking in creature comforts … I shall see
what I can do straight away. And you really need a fire lit on this cold day.
Heavens, look at the cobwebs. I am sorry, but we’re all muddling along as best
we can and sometimes the obvious things get overlooked. I was sure someone had
been up to get everything ready for you.’

‘Please don’t
apologise, I have everything I need.’

‘Except a cosy
fire, a warm counterpane on your bed, fresh towels, and a jug of flowers, at
the very least. It is no excuse … it has been hard since we lost so many staff,
but this is no welcome. I shall go this minute and make improvements.’

‘Please do not
worry,’ Jane insisted, ‘I should prefer you stay and talk to me, if you have
time.’

Alice looked up
and smiled. ‘I should enjoy that, if you’re sure I cannot help. I was so excited
to hear that you were coming as a companion to us all. Since we left London I
have not enjoyed the same discussions on books, literature and art that I used
to share with my mother’s old friend, Lady Rivers. My sisters do not share my
love of classic works, and though William loves to read too, he is always so
busy about the estate to spend as much time with me as he once did. Cora is a
great reader, but unfortunately only likes to scare herself with horror stories
and gothic tales.’

‘It is her age, I
imagine. I daresay she’ll grow out of it and widen her interests in time. What
about you? Do you have a favourite book, one that you read over and again?’
asked Jane. ‘Mine is Richardson’s Sir
Charles Grandison, though I’m also very fond of Frances Burney’s books. I
believe Camilla is the most delightful heroine in creation.’

‘I confess I’ve
never read Richardson or Burney, but I’d love to try them. Like you, I enjoy
the writers of the past more than modern novelists. My favourite book is Persuasion by another Miss Austen, your
namesake. Are you related, by any chance?’

Jane could feel
the warmth of a sudden blush making her normally pink cheeks even redder. ‘I do
not think so, Miss Milton, it is a common enough name … I know of the book you
mention, it happens to be one I am fond of myself, though of all that author’s
works I feel sure it would have benefitted from a little editing.’

‘Persuasion is quite perfect to my mind,
though I read once that it was Miss Austen’s last book and her brother published
it posthumously. Perhaps she did not have time to work on it as much as she
would have liked.’

‘I daresay there
is some truth in that,’ said Jane thinking of Henry who she missed with all her
heart. ‘And I’m sure she had an idea that time was running out. She had a story
to tell, and was determined to reach the end.’

‘It’s such a
poignant tale, that has me asking many questions. I’ve often wondered if Miss
Austen ever experienced the kind of love that Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth
found. There is such truth in her writing, as if she must have known the kind
of longing that Miss Elliot suffered through the years when she and the captain
were separated.’

‘I am sure most
authors write about what they know and have experienced to some extent, even if
their imaginations are also used to great advantage. If a writer truly
experiences life and love, it will inevitably reveal itself in the written
word.’

‘And in
Persuasion those experiences are so movingly described that I feel in my heart
she must have suffered.’

‘Only someone who
has loved and lost would say such a thing, but forgive me, I am being
presumptuous.’

‘Not at all. I
was in love once, Miss Austen, but there the comparison with Miss Elliot must
end. My story has no happy ending.’

There was silence
for a moment. Jane wished she’d not spoken out of turn. ‘Real life cannot
always mirror the happy endings we find in a book, Miss Milton, but I’m sure
you would agree that to have experienced such love even with the associated
pain is better than to never have known it at all.’

There was another
pause during which Jane was sure their thoughts ran on similar lines. She
wondered if she’d said too much, but her companion looked up and smiled.

‘Miss Austen, I’m
so very glad you’re here. I look forward to many more discussions, but I must
go and see to one or two tasks before dinner. And, if you ever need me, you’ll
find me on the gallery floor in the room next to the niche where the statue of
Athena resides.’

Alice Milton
started to walk towards the door, but turned at the last minute. ‘I do hope you
won’t mind too much if my sister Mae seems out of spirits. She doesn’t mean to
be rude, but she has a habit of saying exactly what comes into her head, and no
amount of correcting her from Will or myself seems to do any good.’

‘I expect she
thinks she’s too old to have a governess, and quite rightly so,’ said Jane. ‘I
hope Mae will realise that I have no wish to treat you all like children. I
came here expecting to be a governess to five little girls so I’m rather
getting used to the idea of my new position in the household.’

‘On the contrary,
Miss Austen, whether you’re a governess or a lady’s companion, I think we all
know the Miltons need someone to help glue the family back together. I have a
feeling you may be the very person to do just that.’

Jane watched her
walk away feeling more unsure than ever about what she was being required to
do. She was feeling very nervous about meeting them all at dinner, but Alice
had turned out to be so lovely she decided the evening really couldn’t turn out
to be as bad as all that.